


Radix febris carnalis, commonly known as Fever root

by Allemande



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All canon except they errr survived somehow and there was no Lupin/Tonks, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin Live
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-10-15 12:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17528585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allemande/pseuds/Allemande
Summary: A couple of years after the war, Sirius is quite content, having opened a Muggle cafe in North London, seeing his godson regularly and enjoying a newfound friendship with Remus.Until he suddenly starts having dreams about Remus. Very odd dreams. Very... explicit dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

Sirius awoke with a start.  
  
What the f –  
  
Having stared at the ceiling of his London flat for nearly a minute, he finally decided that, yes, this was actually where he was. He was not in the Shrieking Shack, it wasn’t 1977, and he was – he checked.  
  
Yes. He was alone in his bed.  
  
And yet, mere seconds ago, he had still felt warm skin shivering under his touch. On his lips, the taste of another’s lips, and in his ear, the sighs and moans of –  
  
“Bloody hell,” he said quietly.  
  
It had just been a dream. An extremely vivid dream about someone he had never, as far as he remembered, dreamt about in this manner.  
  
Hazily, he thought he would remain in this half-dreamlike state for a few more moments, because once he thought about it too much, his conscience would tell him to stop. And this erection wasn’t going to take care of itself.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Morning, Sirius.”  
  
“Morning, Kate.”  
  
“You all right?”  
  
He paused in the act of unlocking the kitchen and looked back to where she stood by the bar, cleaning glasses.  
  
“I’m fine, why?” he lied.  
  
“I dunno, you look... different. Oi, did you score last night?” She grinned. “That blond one finally win you over?”  
  
“Shut up.” He grinned. “Anyway, you’d know. Don’t tell me you didn’t check your crystal ball before going to bed.”  
  
She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled, advancing into the kitchen. It was a private joke between them – well, more of a private joke for himself, really: Kate, the Muggle who worked for him in his Camden café-slash-bistro, was a witch, could read minds, used magic to do the cleaning and what have you. Sirius claimed that this was the only failsafe way she would never suspect that he was actually the one with the magic, although Remus had said –  
  
He paused, staring absent-mindedly at the huge pile of dishes in the sink that hadn’t fit into the machine last night.  
  
Remus. Blimey.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Hi, Harry! Sure, he’s in the back, go right through!” Sirius heard Kate trill. He’d always suspected she had a bit of a soft spot for his godson.  
  
He smiled at Harry as he entered the kitchen and gave him a one-armed hug, his other hand firmly occupied stirring the bechamel sauce. “Hey you. Got some time off from the drudge factory at last?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “Not really, I just took it. Been a while since I’ve been over for lunch.”  
  
“That it has,” Sirius agreed. “But I don’t mind, honestly. I hear the Ministry canteen is really good, too. Three different master chefs from three different countries, was it?”  
  
“Oh shut up,” Harry grinned. “You know it’s a bit of a ride from Whitehall. I just haven’t got round to logging off for two hours, that’s all.”  
  
“Ride? You took the Tube?” Sirius inquired over his shoulder while he spread the bechamel over the last layer of lasagne.  
  
“Well, I figured if I’m going to visit the ‘man who’s turned his back on the magical community’...”  
  
“Ugh. Can’t you do something about the _Daily Prophet_? Can’t Kingsley get them to hire someone more sensible?”  
  
Harry laughed. “Sure, if you want us to live in a police state...”  
  
They lapsed into silence when Paolo arrived, half an hour late as usual, and Sirius explained the various goings-on in the pots and the ovens, and Paolo nodded, looking contrite, and took over.  
  
“You’re good to that one,” Harry commented as they sat in Sirius’ favourite secluded corner, looking out at the rain hammering against the west window, warming themselves with a cup of tea.  
  
Sirius shrugged. “He’s a fantastic cook. And he’s got three kids at home.”  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
They discussed Harry’s employees for a bit –Balthazar Barrentree cropped up, as usual –, then had a good laugh about the recent _Prophet_ feature which had been thinly disguised as a café recommendation and was actually a portrait of Sirius Black, misunderstood, wrongly convicted, and somehow incredibly sexy in his refusal to associate with the wizarding community.  
  
“Or that’s what Ginny said, anyway,” Harry shrugged. “Apparently that particular reporter only ever writes portraits about men she fancies.”  
  
“Great.” Sirius grimaced. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, though. Do people really think I’ve turned my back on the wizarding world? I mean, it’s not as though I don’t use magic anymore, or don’t associate with any wizards whatsoever.” He shrugged. “I’m just not terribly keen on, well. All of that.”  
  
Harry nodded. He, too, clearly remembered all those post-war debriefings that Sirius had been asked to come to, and the awkward chit-chat with Ministry employees afterwards, some of whom had pretended to have known all along that Sirius had been innocent. And Harry hadn’t even been present at all of them, let alone all those other chance meetings with wizards in the street who wanted to talk about the war, about the Potters, about _Peter_...  
  
“I dunno about the community,” Harry shrugged. “I guess once the idea is out there, it’s hard to shake off.” He looked at Sirius quizzically over his teacup. “But, you know, they’re not all bad. I think you’d find that all the post-war curiosity has died down quite a bit and people are just eager to get on with their lives.”  
  
“So you’re saying give them another chance.”  
  
“Hey, it’s up to you.” Harry smiled and looked around the café, full at this hour, with a few tourists but mostly locals. “Anyway, I never thought you were doing this to turn your back on us. After all, like Remus said, opening a Muggle café in ‘dodgy Camden’ was exactly what your parents would have hated.”  
  
Sirius smiled and gave a half-assenting shrug, and they were quiet for a while, Sirius’ thoughts straying, not for the first time that day, in an entirely inappropriate direction.  
  
Then, Kate brought the lasagne and the salad, winked at Harry and said “Compliments of the chef,” and Harry chuckled.  
  
“I guess it really is time I wore that wedding ring,” he said, as conversationally as though he was talking about the weather.  
  
“What?” Sirius’ fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Have you picked a date, then?”  
  
“Yup. 22nd of June. And, er, Ron will be best man, but you have to be there, so no shying away from the –” Harry broke off as Paolo passed to deposit salt and pepper on the table and grin at them shyly. “– the wizarding community,” Harry finished in a low voice.  
  
“Harry, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Sirius grinned. “I’ll even wear dress robes.”  
  
“And,” Harry made a show of tasting the food first, then nodded, “We’d like to place a catering order, if that’s all right. Sirius, this is amazing.”  
  
Catering for Harry Potter’s wedding – Sirius had done stranger things.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Sirius,_  
 _By now you’ve probably heard about Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Would you like to come to dinner one of these days and talk presents? I think I need some help brainstorming if I’m going to come up with anything besides books._  
 _Let me know when’s convenient for you, I’m fairly flexible and I know you’re busy._  
 _See you soon, I hope,_  
 _Remus_  
  
Sirius stared at the letter for longer than was strictly necessary, taking in Remus’ neat, scholarly handwriting, the obvious fact that he had taken care to phrase the letter in his head beforehand (there was not a single break in the flow of the ink)... It was all very methodical, very controlled, very unlike the Remus he’d now dreamt about for the twelfth night in a row.  
  
Very unlike the Remus who had dropped to his knees before him and –  
  
Sirius shut his eyes tightly. What the _hell_ was the matter with him?  
  
He set the letter aside, staring at his morning coffee instead. He’d probably be here a while, he thought dryly; it was a good thing this was his morning off.  
  
 _“So you thought you’d just strut in here, seduce me, and leave? Was that the plan?” There was a dangerous gleam in Remus’ eye, and without warning, he pushed Sirius onto the threadbare couch, spread Sirius’ legs, and dropped to his knees between them._  
  
 _“No,” gasped Sirius as Remus undid his belt buckle. “I don’t have to leave. I just thought...”_  
  
 _“You thought once was enough? Well, maybe that’s how it works with the girls of Hogwarts...”_  
  
 _And if Remus had planned any more teasing words, it seemed he’d abandoned that notion as soon as he’d fully undressed Sirius from the waist down..._  
  
Remus. His old friend from school, his soft-spoken, well-mannered, reserved friend. There was no way Remus would ever behave that way. On the other hand – still waters and all that...  
  
Sirius shook his head at himself. You’re the one who’s behaving oddly, he told himself. Who dreams about his best friend in that way? Who wakes up every morning, twelve mornings in a row, with a hard-on and the sound of his best friend crying out in climax still in his ear?  
  
He frowned at the letter again. _I know you’re busy._ Was that a dig at the fact that he hadn’t been in touch for a while? Well, he was busy. But he’d never cancelled drinks with Remus twice in a row before. Remus had no way of knowing that Sirius _was_ avoiding him, out of fear of awkwardness, but he must start to feel that something was wrong.  
  
The owl had not been instructed to wait, either. Was that a mark of how unreliable Sirius was these days? Had Remus not expected him to reply right away?  
  
He’d better get straight to it, then, he thought, and dialled the café’s number on his Muggle mobile to arrange a night off.  
  


* * *

  
  
He really needn’t have worried about dinner with Remus, Sirius thought halfway through the evening. His friend was, and he should have realized this, nothing like the strange mirage that Sirius’ mind had been cooking up lately. He was sensible, mild-mannered, warm, funny in that subtle way that Sirius had always liked. But nothing like... yeah, well. That.  
  
Until Remus looked up at him from his dish with that look – his head turned a little sideways and his lashes half obscuring his eyes – and Sirius’ heart rate suddenly increased.  
  
“You’re not actually suggesting we get him –” Remus broke off. “What?”  
  
“What? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how nice it was to have someone else cook for me for a change.” He thought he had _probably_ been fairly convincing. He hoped.  
  
Remus smiled. “You should come over more often, then. Last month I did that entire Indian cook-book.”  
  
“Methodical, as usual,” Sirius teased, and Remus acknowledged this with a grin and a shrug.  
  
“Well, we can’t all be insane natural talents in the kitchen.”  
  
“This is really good,” Sirius hastened to confirm. “Hey, I could hire you for the catering. Harry wants me to cater his wedding.”  
  
“Sure,” Remus nodded. “Although you don’t have to hire me, you know. I can just help you like that.”  
  
“Oh, but Harry insists on paying me, so I will insist on paying those who help me,” Sirius smiled.  
  
He didn’t really know the details of his friend’s current income; Remus didn’t seem desperately short on money, but working freelance for the Ministry’s Magical Creatures department as well as doing some private tutoring was probably not always enough.  
  
“Fine, then,” Remus shrugged. “I look forward to it. Now, getting back to the subject of presents...”  
  
In the end, thought Sirius as he lay in bed that night, they’d found a compromise between Remus’ sensible and Sirius’ more outlandish gift ideas, and toasted this with a few bottles of Muggle bitter. A few bottles had turned into many bottles, whether with magic or without, he wasn’t sure, and while it still felt like getting drunk with his mate, and the drink coursing through his blood didn’t actually tempt him to act on any of the strange ideas he’d had recently, he’d still had to hold himself back from _mentioning_ them.  
  
Well, at least being drunk gave him a good chance of a dreamless sleep for once, he thought as he turned off his bedside lamp.  
  
Then again, maybe not.  
  
 _He crept through the tunnel towards the Shack, excitement pulsing through his veins like thick blood. Had anyone asked him why he knew he needed to go here, he wouldn’t have been able to answer. He just did._  
  
 _The Shack was silent, but there was a small gleam of light and a current of air from upstairs. They always shut the windows whenever they left; Remus was very conscientious about that._  
  
 _He mounted the stairs as quietly as possible, but they never failed to creak, and he knew he would be expected._  
  
 _“Only me,” he said, knocking and pushing the door open. Remus was sitting on the bed, his knees drawn up. There was a book in his lap which he had evidently been reading by the dim light of the bedside lamp. Now, he was looking at his friend warily, obviously unsure of what to make of this unannounced visit._  
  
 _“What are you doing here?” he asked, looking Sirius up and down._  
  
 _“What, I can’t just visit my friend on a cold winter night?” Sirius asked, flopping down on the bed beside Remus, who visibly tensed. “The question is, what are you doing here? The full moon is ten days away. And the entire Sixth year is having too much fun tonight for you to be reading –,” he grinned and took a lunge at Remus’ book, “_ War and Peace _. What the actual fuck?”_  
  
 _“Tolstoy,” Remus shrugged. “He calms me down.”_  
  
 _“And you need calming down because...” Sirius teased._  
  
 _“Clearly, I need it less than some people,” Remus remarked. He chanced a sideways look at Sirius and sighed. “Look, on a night like this, shouldn’t you be up at the castle trying to get into the Ravenclaw girls’ dormitory or something?”_  
  
 _“Probably,” Sirius smiled. “But for some reason I decided to come here instead.”_  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Sirius had decided that he might as well follow his hunch that these were not mere dreams. It was absolutely ridiculous, because obviously they could be nothing else. But he might as well read up on a few things in the Hogwarts Archives.  
  
Minerva had invited him to Hogwarts long ago – clearly another initiative to get him back into the wizarding community, cleverly masked as a request to teach the Sixth and Seventh Years some Muggle and magical cooking skills. He'd finally given in and had agreed on an intensive course on a Saturday in March.  
  
_'Come early and we can have breakfast and chat,'_ Minerva had written; Sirius had thought he might come early, chat a little and then disappear to the Library. The rather convoluted spellwork he had in mind for Harry's wedding present would have been a good pretext. However, it was not to be.  
  
“Sirius!”  
  
Flitwick. Of course.  
  
“Sirius, I am delighted you could make it,” said his erstwhile teacher, rushing up to him. “It's been such a long time.”  
  
Sirius, smiling automatically, shook Flitwick's hand. And in a flash, the memories flooded back into him in that vague, fuzzy but slightly overwhelming way, Lily's wandwork in Charms, James's badly disguised adoration, Peter's dismayed squeaks whenever he got something wrong...  
  
“Are you all right, Sirius?” Flitwick, concerned. Sirius shut his eyes tightly and willed himself to focus.  
  
“Sorry, Professor. I'm a little tired, is all.”  
  
“Filius, please.” Flitwick giggled nervously. “We are both teachers today, after all.”  
  
After Flitwick, it was Sprout, then a rather forward senior student who wanted to hear his account of the Battle of Hogwarts, and then – dear God – Slughorn. Sirius had vaguely registered the fact that his old teacher had come back in Harry's second-to-last school year and stayed on after the end of the war. He hadn't really thought about meeting him here. If he had, he might have known old Sluggy would talk of nothing but “dear Lily Evans”.  
  
Half an hour to go till his class, and no nearer to the Library, Sirius gave up and tugged into Hogwarts's excellent breakfast, listening to Slughorn's drone with one ear and to the Great Hall's rather pleasing overall hum with the other. He let his eyes wander over the students and naturally rest on the Gryffindor table. Ignoring the many pointed fingers and whisperings, he studied the Sixth and Seventh Years, wondering if he had ever been that young.  
  
“How did it go?” Minerva asked at the end of his class, strolling up to him in what he suddenly remembered had been his old Arithmancy classroom. “The students seemed very pleased, at any rate. And it smells lovely in here!” She opened a few pots and – he could have sworn it – giggled at the slightly stern look he gave her. “Any of this practice for Harry's wedding?”  
  
“Ah, so he's told you about that, then?”  
  
“Yes, we write to each other regularly,” she said, sounding not half proud. “Anyway, I hope you liked teaching today? We're happy to have you again, you know.”  
  
“Thank you.” Sirius deliberated. “I might get back to you on that one. Perhaps not on a regular basis. But definitely before the wedding, I need a few more helping hands so might as well use the students as cheap labour.” He winked and Minerva pretended to look shocked. “Er, speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if I could use the Library? Remus and I had an idea for a present which is hopefully edifying and amusing at the same time –“  
  
“So a good combination of the two of you then,” Minerva remarked.  
  
“Exactly. But I need to do some research to pull it off.”  
  
“Well, I look forward to whatever it is then!” she exclaimed, and he realized in astonishment that she wasn't going to ask him any more. “No problem. I'll let Madam Pince know she is to give you access to anything you need.”  
  
“Thank you, Minerva.” And there, just like that, his way was free.  
  
Two hours later, he had finally found the section he was looking for: He had been going through the school's official log, noting the taught subjects, teachers, but also special occurrences and general goings-on, some of it written in a rather obscure code so that teachers would understand but students would not be incited to copy past misdemeanours.  
  
Sirius knew this book well, among other reasons because he and James had once made a copy of a rather memorable entry from their Fourth Year, framed it and hung it on their dormitory wall, something about polar bears and penguins suddenly appearing in the Great Lake and having a raucous (and rather raunchy) party if he remembered correctly.

Speaking of remembering...  
  
_“Sirius Black, the womanizer of Hogwarts,” Remus purred into his ear, his whole body pressing against his back, one hand slung around his chest, the other caressing his stomach and travelling ever lower. “Alone in a shack with a werewolf. How’s that going to look on your resume?”_  
  
_Sirius growled as Remus’ hand reached his groin and started stroking in circles, while Remus placed small kisses onto his neck and his own arousal pressed very noticeably against Sirius’ bottom. “I assume,” he continued in a conversational tone, “that in all those nights with the dewy-eyed, adoring females of Hogwarts, none of them ever fucked you properly.”_  
  
_“Remus,” Sirius gasped out as he felt Remus unbuckling his belt..._

Sirius, only just stifling any inappropriate sounds, dragged himself back into the here and now. Right. School log.  
  
He had no idea in which year to look, and nearly no idea what he was looking for exactly, so it was a drudge through thousands of old entries, but he was narrowing it down further and further...

And suddenly, it was right there in front of him.  
  
“June 13th, 1977: Radix febris carnalis, mostly Sixth Years, some Fifth. All stock located and destroyed. Parents not informed as no lasting damage.”  
  
_Fever root._  
  
Bloody hell.


	4. Chapter 4

“So this goes... here,” Remus tried.  
  
“Yes. No! There,” Sirius nodded his head towards the far section of the buffet table, “between the roses and the freesias.” He carried his own two trays, laden with mini-feuilletés, to the other end of the enormous table, setting them down by the other savoury dishes that his helpers had already brought. “Tabatha, hummus this way, please!” he called.  
  
His student helpers (and Harry) had insisted he and Remus stay for the whole of the ceremony and let them start preparing the table. The annoying perfectionist in him regretted it just a little bit now as he ran up and down the table, correcting decoration mishaps and rearranging dishes (the goat-cheese-and-pear toasties next to the mini apple pies, honestly!). Good thing they had a bit of a head start, having Apparated as close as they could outside the magically secured party tent while the couple and guests were arriving on foot.  
  
“Sirius, relax,” Remus said into his ear, making him jump. “It's beautiful. No one's going to notice if, say, the vanilla sauce is next to the leek-and-cheese-soup.” There was laughter in his voice, and Sirius tore himself away with difficulty to check, and correct, that particular mishap.  
  
“Good call.” Remus was smiling at him, no doubt amused by his fidgety manner. “No idea how these kids are getting through school if they can't even tell sweet from savoury,” Sirius added under his breath.  
  
“No doubt they have other qualities,” Remus shrugged, and Sirius drew in a sharp breath.  
  
“What?”  
  
“What? Oh, nothing, just forgot one last thing,” and he dashed back to his equipment case and started rummaging in it, mainly in order to buy himself time to think about a) that one dream where Remus had said something about Sirius having other qualities besides thinking of pranks and getting good grades, and b) what he was going to do now.  
  
“Here they come!” announced Tabatha from her lookout at the entrance of the tent, and Sirius dashed back to the table.  
  
“Didn't you have some prank planned?” Remus prompted him, and Sirius cursed under his breath. He was really not in the moment. Thanking Remus once again, he cast a spell he'd prepared, just in time before the bride and groom came in, looking glorious, and shortly followed by what looked like at least a hundred people.  
  
Whose faces fell when they eagerly checked out the buffet tables and saw nothing but Butterbeer and fish and chips.  
  
Sirius tried not to grin as he strode towards Harry and Ginny, who were looking around them half incredulously, half amused. “Congratulations again, you two,” he said, hugging them both in turn. “Lovely ceremony. I cooked up some of my best stuff in honour of the occasion.”  
  
“So I see,” said Harry, a smile tugging at his mouth.  
  
One hilarious best man's speech and a short address by a now slightly hysterical godfather later, the spell was finally lifted and everyone laughed, oohed, ahhed, and tucked in.  
  
Sirius and Remus demonstrated their present – an beautiful antique bookcase which also happened to be enchanted so that one never knew what one got when taking down a book – and finally, Sirius thought, it was all over and done with and he could now sit down and get drunk with Remus and hopefully figure out what to do next.  
  
Naturally, the fates did not work in his favour at all.  
  
“Hippolyte!” Remus exclaimed and strode off to greet a rather annoyingly handsome, presumably French, acquaintance of his, and Sirius spent the rest of the night trying not to watch them flirting.  
  


* * *

  
  
“You all right?”  
  
Sirius looked up from his book.  
  
“You've been staring at that recipe for twenty minutes.” Kate leaned over the counter. “Okay, either that's a really fancy croque monsieur or you're not reading that, because from what I remember from my last holiday in France that's basically just cheese on toast.”  
  
“And ham. And,” Sirius added, now reading the recipe properly for the first time, “pineapple, according to this. Ew.” He shut the book with a sigh. “What's going on this morning, anyway?” He waved his hand in the direction of the cafe, where two lone customers were sitting (separately) nursing cups of coffee.  
  
Kate shrugged. “First proper day of summer. You know how it is.” She washed a few glasses, then nudged him. “Come on. You can tell mum.”  
  
He smiled, but shook his head, remembering that it was Paolo's day off and he'd better prepare something for lunch.  
  
Later, she came to the back to ask a special favour for a customer (Eggs Benedict without the egg – now he'd really seen it all), and lingered.  
  
“Hypothetical question,” he said, his back turned to her.  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“Say you remembered something about a friend of yours, years and years after it happened.”  
  
“Are we talking murder here?”  
  
He smiled. “Cold. Very cold.”  
  
“Sex.”  
  
“Hot.”  
  
“Ooh. Okay. I remembered a friend of mine having sex with... whom?”  
  
He cleared his throat. “You.”  
  
“Me!” She choked on her coffee. “Fantastic. Why did I forget?”  
  
He shrugged. “Blackout. Completely hammered.”  
  
She whistled. “Interesting.”  
  
“That's one way of putting it.” He stirred the hollandaise sauce. “Hold on a sec. This Eggs-Benedict-without-eggs person. Are they allergic? Because there's egg yolk in this sauce.”  
  
“I'll go ask. Don't think you're getting out of this conversation.”  
  
He smiled.  
  
“Nope,” she said, coming back (she'd been very quick about it too, he noticed). “She just doesn't like poached eggs.”  
  
“Weirdo.”  
  
They laughed. He finished the special order, she brought it out and came back.  
  
“Two more aubergine bakes. So.”  
  
“So,” he replied while setting water to boil and taking out the grilled aubergine from the fridge.  
  
“I imagine I'm feeling a little awkward around my friend now,” she said.  
  
“That's putting it mildly.”  
  
“And I'm thinking about whether to mention it?” She handed him the tomatoes and the herbs. “Wondering whether my friend remembers as well? Or do I know she – or he –”  
  
He smiled.  
  
“... he does because he didn't drink that night?”  
  
“Hmm. He did drink, but I guess you just know that he doesn't get blackouts.”  
  
“Right.” She handed him the cheese. “So that's it? I'm wondering whether to mention it to my friend?”  
  
Sirius was silent for a long while, preparing the layers of pasta and aubergine, and Kate nipped to the front to prepare a few drinks.  
  
“I guess it depends on whether I fancy him,” she said, coming back. “Whether I want to do it again.”  
  
Good Lord, the woman was direct. But maybe that was exactly what he needed now.  
  
“What if you've seen him with someone else and you realized you were pretty bothered?” he asked, handing her the aubergine bakes (one of them a little too brown but anyway...).  
  
She smiled at him and took the dishes to the front, and suddenly they were swathed in orders and didn't talk for over an hour.  
  
“I'd say,” she said when he finally emerged from the kitchen, ready to go home, “That I would probably try to think of an elegant way of letting my friend know I knew. Without actually telling him.”  
  
He frowned at her, and then suddenly smiled. “Kate, you're a bloody genius.”  
  
“I know.” She shrugged. “Go on, get going then. Good luck,” she added, with a wink.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

_**Interlude: Kate** _

* * *

  
  
When Sirius' quiet friend, the handsome one who always looked tired, walked in half an hour before closing time the next evening, Kate suddenly knew it must be him.  
  
Why she hadn't seen it before, she didn't know. Perhaps it was because Sirius hadn't either. To her (and for all she knew, to him), they had been that most classic of constellations, “just friends”. Although she _had_ suspected that his friend might be gay, but had only recently suspected the same of Sirius.  
  
Either way, it was all terribly exciting.  
  
She brought him his usual (double espresso with lots of milk) and casually asked whether he wanted her to let Sirius know he was there; he waved a casual hand and said casually that he would wait till closing time, and she gave a casual smile and casually went back to the bar.  
  
When all customers but one had left and Sirius had presumably only begun to tidy up the kitchen (the excitement was pretty much unbearable at this point), her boss emerged, seemed about to ask her something, and saw his friend and stopped short.  
  
“Hey,” he said, without moving.  
  
“Hey,” said his friend, giving him a little smile over his newspaper.  
  
Kate busied herself with tidying up, trying not to make too much noise in the process but trying to look very busy so that Sirius wouldn't get the idea to ask her to leave.  
  
Sirius went to hug his friend and she tried not to stare as they let go rather quickly. Deliciously awkward.  
  
“I hope it's all right, me barging in like this,” said – what was his name again?  
  
“Of course,” said Sirius, sounding a little breathless. “Er – have you got a little time? Only I need to prepare a couple things for tomorrow.”  
  
“No problem. I don't have any plans for tonight.”  
  
Kate thought she might have heard Sirius gulp audibly, but maybe it was just her washing-up liquid.  
  
“Great. Er, see you in a bit.” He threw a quick glance at Kate and disappeared into the kitchen. She wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to read him, but she thought she had probably better clear out soon. Having finished tidying everything up, she went round the back to say goodnight.  
  
When she entered the kitchen, he turned around to look at her, saw her smiling, and sighed. “Oh God.”  
  
“You'll be fine,” she said, relieved that no pretending was required. “It'll be a little awkward at first but you'll be fine.” He clearly likes you, she thought, but decided against saying it out loud in case she was wrong and created any false hopes.  
  
“Thanks.” He sighed again. “It's ridiculous how nervous I am. I mean, it's Remus.”  
  
Remus! That was it.  
  
“You'll be fine,” she repeated and gave him a brief hug. “Have a great evening.”  
  
On her way out, she practiced her casual look and wave again and then, with no little regret, left for home.  



	6. Chapter 6

So here they were, standing in his cafe and making small talk.  
  
There had been a brief and slightly awkward hug and now Remus was asking him how his day had been, and Sirius rattled off something inconsequential about really having to hire someone, it was getting too much, and Remus nodded sympathetically and said that his day had been pretty hectic too.  
  
And then he said, “But it was all right because I had a puzzle to keep me occupied and distract me from the stress.”  
  
Sirius stared at his shoes for a little too long, then realized he had better react.  
  
“A puzzle?”  
  
Remus gave a little smile. “Yes. Someone left a plant on my doorstep this morning and I wasn't quite sure what it was. Took me all day to confirm my suspicion as to its name.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
Remus waited for a moment, then said, “Aren't you going to ask what it was?”  
  
Sirius looked up. “Nah.”  
  
Remus' smile grew a fraction wider. “I see.”  
  
“Shall we go get a drink?” Sirius suggested.  
  
“Are we going to talk about it?”  
  
Sirius, feeling his heart pounding a frantic and excited rhythm against his ribcage, nodded. “Yes. But I need a drink first. If that's all right.”  
  
Remus smiled again, nodded, and they were off.  
  
They went to one of Sirius' favourite pubs around the corner which had a second-floor featuring a balustrade overlooking the ground floor, and they were early enough to get one of the tables with the best view.  
  
“Beer?” Sirius asked, making for the bar.  
  
“Hm. Wine, I think.”  
  
“Ooh. Actually, I fancy a glass of wine too.”  
  
“God, we're old.”  
  
Sirius laughed. “Not old. Well, a bit old. But mostly more appreciative of good things. Red, right?” Remus nodded, and Sirius went to get their drinks.  
  
A little more small talk about wine ensued, and a lot of staring at other people downstairs (which was one of the reasons Sirius liked this pub so much), and a few awkward moments featuring stolen glances and throats being cleared a little too often.  
  
Finally, Sirius said something about remembering a really good Bordeaux he'd had somewhere in Scotland, and Remus said: “Speaking of remembering.”  
  
“Yes.” Sirius cleared his throat again. “I guess you're wondering... well, why.”  
  
Remus cocked his head to one side. “Hmm. _Why_ is another question entirely. But I think I should start by asking how long you've known.”  
  
Sirius nodded. Right in one, as usual. Why he'd left the plant on Remus's doorstep – he wasn't quite sure he knew the answer to that himself, yet.  
  
“About a month, now.”  
  
Remus raised his eyebrows a fraction. “And... well... how? People don't usually remember at all. From what I understand.” He swirled his wine for a moment. “Normal people, that is.”  
  
Sirius drew in a sharp little breath, then hoped Remus hadn't heard it. He'd been right to assume that Remus had always remembered, then.  
  
“I think it's to do with the Dementors,” he finally replied. “They take stuff they're not supposed to take and bring back other stuff that's supposed to stay hidden. Like, the other day I suddenly remembered this book I was obsessed with when I was about two. I have no other memories whatsoever from that age.”  
  
“No, nor I,” Remus nodded. “So... how did it happen? If you don't mind my asking?”  
  
“How did I remember?”  
  
Remus nodded again. “Did it come back to you in a single flash or...”  
  
“I started having dreams about... it.” Sirius swallowed. He'd almost said “about us”. He didn't want to sound romantic about it, didn't want Remus to feel obliged to do something about the information he was given. Or did he? Why _had_ he left the plant?  
  
To his relief, Remus didn't seem to have noticed. “I see. And how did you figure out they weren't dreams?”  
  
“Er.” Sirius could feel himself blushing ever so slightly, but he couldn't help smiling. “Let's just say my dreams aren't usually that... explicit.”  
  
Remus smiled back at him, in that new way that Sirius had only recently begun to appreciate, that... was it a flirtatious way? Or did he just have a gorgeous smile and Sirius had never noticed before?  
  
He explained, then, about his trip to Hogwarts and the school log (and quoted the entry in question, which Remus found as amusingly absurd as he did), and they lapsed into silence.  
  
Pub number two, and wine number three, yielded a few more answers.  
  
“Albus came up to me the next day,” Remus confided – his speech not slurred, never slurred, but there _was_ that telltale glow around his cheeks, which delighted Sirius more than he could explain to himself. “He asked me very casually what I'd been up to the night before.”  
  
“So he knew that you...”  
  
“That I'd remember because of what I am. Yes. Immune to secondary effects of most spells and enchantments and all that.”  
  
Sirius drew a deep breath. Remus had always known. Always. All these years he'd remembered their incredible, passionate night in the Shrieking Shack, and he had never let it show.  
  
“What did you tell him?” he asked, trying to stay cool and focused.  
  
“I told him truthfully that I fled to the Shrieking Shack as soon as I'd figured out what was going on and that I spent the night there.”  
  
Sirius laughed. “Master of lies, as usual.”  
  
Remus shrugged, a twinkle in his eye. “I may have left out one or two details, but he didn't question me any further. He only gave me a tiny, slightly obscure lecture about people not having to necessarily know things that were bad for them, which I took to mean that I wasn't to tell anyone.”  
  
Sirius was silent for a while, and Remus studied him, looking worried.  
  
“You're not mad, are you?” he asked, finally.  
  
“Mad?”  
  
“That I never told you.”  
  
Sirius gaped at him. “Of course not. I wouldn't have done in your place.”  
  
Remus looked relieved, and they finished their wines and went for another stroll.  
  
“Look,” Remus said after a while, apparently worried by Sirius's continuing silence. “This doesn't mean that things have to change. We're not going to be awkward around each other all the time now, are we?” He chuckled in an obviously forced attempt to make light of the situation. “I mean, it was a long time ago.”  
  
“Yes. Of course it was.” Sirius wasn't sure he liked where this was going, but he didn't know how to change course. “No lasting awkwardness. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll be fine.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Remus wanted to be _friends_. Well, of course he did. Wouldn't he have attempted something otherwise? Ages ago?  
  
They walked on some more, Sirius hardly noticing where they were going, absorbed in his thoughts and memories and overly acute perception of the man beside him.  
  
“I've never seen that bar before,” he suddenly said, stopping short and gazing at the thing in question, a cozy-looking, old-fashioned little place wedged between a fast food restaurant and a big, noisy pub.  
  
Remus followed his gaze, then looked back at Sirius in a funny sort of way.  
  
“Which one?”  
  
“That one.” Sirius pointed. “The _Cock and Ball_. Oh. That's...”  
  
“... interesting,” Remus commented.  
  
“What? The name?”  
  
“No. The fact that you can see it.”  
  
Sirius frowned. “What do you mean?” He stared back at the place. Now that Remus had said it, he noticed that the bar was indeed _wedged_ , in a very peculiar, unnatural sort of way. In fact, it reminded him of...  
  
“There's an enchantment on it,” he exclaimed. “Like Grimmauld Place.”  
  
Remus nodded, still studying him. “Yes. Except that this enchantment works so that straight people don't usually notice the bar.”  
  
“What?” Sirius stared at him.  
  
Remus shrugged, evidently taking his reaction for indignation at the very concept. “I know. I'm not particularly happy with the idea. But the owner has had some bad experiences in the past and really wanted a safe space just for the gay community.”  
  
“I see,” Sirius managed. “So you, er, know the place. And the owner.”  
  
“Yes, I've been several times,” said Remus, looking very amused at the turn their evening was taking, and probably also at the casual revelation of his sexual identity, something they'd never really talked about.  
  
“And I can see it now because I'm here with you?”  
  
Remus narrowed his eyes. “I don't think that's how it works.”  
  
Yet another puzzle to add to the collection, then, Sirius thought. An hysterical laugh was threatening to bubble up to the surface, but he suppressed it just in time.  
  
“Would you like to take a look?” Remus asked in a tentative voice.  
  
And so they went to a gay bar with a very explicit name, a bar _that Remus had been to several times_ and where, as it turned out, he knew quite a few people. Sirius looked on as he greeted Paul who'd just been dumped by Alex and Matilda who'd just had her boobs done and Jacob whom Sirius would have bet anything Remus had slept with, the way they were with each other, and Georgie who kissed Remus on the cheek, slung an arm around his waist and told him about his latest conquests, and finally departed whispering quite audibly into Remus's ear that Sirius was a 'good catch'.  
  
“Sorry about all that,” Remus said, looking serious, but there was laughter in his voice and an entirely unfamiliar, relaxed air about him as he led them to a sofa for two in a corner, carrying a bottle of prosecco that he'd just been gifted by one of his friends (or whatever) and two glasses.  
  
“So cliché,” Remus commented as they had settled down, indicating the bottle.  
  
“Is it?” Sirius was still busy taking everything in and was hardly paying attention as Remus poured them their sparkling wine and they clinked glasses.  
  
“Prosecco is the gayest drink on earth,” Remus confirmed. “But I guess you've not had much exposure to this culture.”  
  
 _Your_ culture, Sirius thought, still feeling a little overwhelmed, but also increasingly drunk. “Not really. It's not as though this, er, sort of thing was ever talked about in my family. And we never talked about it at school.” He frowned at Remus. “Or if we did, it was...” He felt himself blushing again, this time harder.  
  
But Remus shrugged, taking another sip. “Casual homophobia was all the rage in the 80s,” he said, smiling. “I survived.”  
  
“I'm sorry.” Sirius took his hand briefly and possibly held on for a bit too long. Remus didn't appear to mind.  
  
“It's fine, Sirius.” He shrugged. “You would have changed your views if the war had given you the chance to. Unfortunately the wizarding world didn't advance as quickly as you would have done, or as the Muggle world did. Which is why this isn't solely a wizarding establishment.”  
  
Sirius nodded. He'd thought as much. There were definitely Muggles in here; there was no way so many people knew how to dress properly as Muggles, and no magic was being performed anywhere in sight.  
  
“Have you gone out with a Muggle?”  
  
“Course,” Remus stated matter-of-factly. “We all have. Be a pretty lonely life otherwise.”  
  
They were quiet again, and Sirius only noticed how much he had drunk when Remus emptied the bottle into their glasses and grinned, and even though Remus was a werewolf and could drink anyone under the table, that one was definitely a drunk grin.  
  
“Never thought I'd go in here with you,” he said as they clinked glasses again and accidentally – or not – shifted a little closer to each other on the sofa.  
  
“Yeah, fancy that,” Sirius said, studying his surroundings again. “And fancy meeting all of your _friends_ in here as well.”  
  
“My _'friends'_ ,” Remus mocked his tone of voice, doing air quotes. “It's not as though I've slept with all of them, you know.”  
  
“If you say so,” Sirius shrugged, fully enjoying his favourite sport: trying to provoke Remus; except he was playing it on an entirely new terrain because this was almost another world and Remus was another person in here.  
  
“What about Georgie?” he asked as the man in question strutted by and gave Remus an air kiss.  
  
“Have I slept with Georgie?” Remus asked, grinning at Sirius over the rim of his glass, and Sirius felt a sudden rush of desire as Remus took a sip of wine and licked his lips, still staring at him.  
  
“Have you?” Sirius asked, trying to level the stare.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Ah. Cause I could have sworn he was being _very_ familiar with you.”  
  
“Yeah? In what way?”  
  
“Well, I definitely saw him doing this,” and Sirius slung an arm around Remus's waist, “and I think at one point he did this,” and he used his other hand to cup Remus's cheek.  
  
“If you say so,” Remus said, not moving away a single inch, his eyes traveling all over Sirius's face.   
  
“So,” he muttered, “not so straight after all, are we?” And then he moved forward and kissed Sirius, and it was like an explosion of desire inside of him, Remus's lips and tongue on his, and that familiar smell, and his soft hair under his fingers, and that leg slung over his, and oh _God_ they had to -  
  
“Get a room,” somebody whispered audibly close by, and Remus laughed into Sirius's mouth.


End file.
